


What The Cat Dragged In

by freshia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (Is that really an au?), Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Awkwardly hilarious situations, Cat Cafés, Cat cafe AU, Cats, Fluff, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, don't turn off the work skin!, slowburn but only 4 chapters so more like medium burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-30 16:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15100550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freshia/pseuds/freshia
Summary: There’s a beat of total silence. Keith hasn’t pulled out a knife yet, and Lance isn’t dead, so that’s something. He decides to take advantage of it.“She’s been taking my underwear!” Lance finally busts out, said in the exact same way you’d accuse a kindergartener of stealing your legos if you, too, were five years old. He even points at the pile of boxers, as if that’s going to help the situation.Keith’s hand is still on the doorknob to his closet. His whole body looks tense. “That doesn’t even begin to explain half of -- Get out of my closet!”Lance scrambles out, grabbing his phone charger on the way. And his boxers. He needs those.Keith has a thieving, ornery cat. Good thing Lance has a soft spot for cats anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

  * kittycade




345 likes

If you crossed a hyperactive toddler with a rabid squirrel, you’d have about half the energy needed to make one whole Red.  
  
Allura is telling me that’s not a very positive way to start out a post on a cat who’s looking for a loving, _furr_ -ever home, but I’m right and it’s in everyone’s best interest (including Red’s!!! Hello!!) to know. The second we brought this cat in she was bouncing off the walls, and sometimes off of the other cats too. And once off of Pidge’s head, probably because Pidge is the shortest one here and so the climb up her back was shorter.  
  
This cat is going to need someone who’s able to keep up with her, and who’s around enough to keep her out of trouble. Seriously. Maybe someone who works at home? That’d be a good choice.  
  
She’s not all energy though -- when she isn’t acting like a kid on Halloween who’s eaten 8 packages of Reese’s past their bedtime, she’s very cuddly! And also has the best litterbox practices I’ve ever seen on a kitten. Never a piece of litter on her, after she’s done. It’s really impressive, to be honest.  
  
If you think you’d be a good fit for this rambunctious, rowdy, riled-up Red, come stop by the KittyCade and see if you hit it off!  
  
(And yes, she is orange. Hunk thought naming her that would be a funny, yet ironic, idea. Also orange is like, off-brand red anyway. It works.)

  


\-- Lance  


#kittycade #cats #tabby #YouKnowSheLooksCuddly

  


/

* * *

There’s a cat in Lance’s sink.

A kitten, more specifically, a very orange kitten. This is alarming, because while Lance works with cats everyday ( _kind of, sort of_ ,) he doesn’t have any of his own. Which means that this cat pulled a break-and-enter, a house invasion, an unlawful entry of his abode and was now squatting in his sink like it was no big deal.

Lance considers his options.

This cat probably belongs to someone, right? Probably someone else in this building. Maybe his new neighbor. How this cat got out, and into his own house was a total mystery, but it was kind of tiny. Probably fit through _something_. So he should find the owner. Or he could call Allura, and have her pick it up while he made posters. Or should he take it to the vet first, and see if it has a chip--

His train of thought is interrupted by the little orange cat meowing at him, before jumping out of his sink and running out the kitchen like the devil himself was chasing after it.

There’s something oddly familiar about that behavior, but he pushes the thought to the back of his mind so he can try and chase after the kitten. It must have slipped back out the way in came in, because he searches for 30 minutes in every nook and cranny he can think of and can’t find it anywhere.

 _Huh_.

/

Three more days pass without incident. The kitten doesn’t reappear, and he goes back to his normal daily routine sans cat.

Until he notices, just barely in his periphery, a streak of orange.

Lance doesn’t manage to see how it gets out, but when he opens the front door it’s sitting in the main hallway with a _pair of his boxers_ hanging out of it’s mouth.

The little orange hairball makes eye-contact with him, and then darts down the stairs. Like a skit out of a cartoon, Lance sprints after it, but this thing is _fast_. The apartment complex he lives in only has 3 stories, one apartment on top of another on top of another, but he’s admittedly a bit out of shape and by the time he lands at the bottom, he’s gasping for air. He manages to just hit the ground in time to see the orange kitten scamper behind someone else -- some guy carrying a few grocery bags. Lance’s brain registers him as the new neighbor, right as the other man gives him a weirded-out look.

“Your cat,” Lance tries to explain, but he’s out of breath and has to pause there. “.... My underwear.”

The guy -- dark hair, longer in the back, _mullet-ish_? -- furrows his brow, then looks down at his cat. His eyes widen when he realizes what’s in it’s mouth, and drops his bags to grab the offending article. The kitten releases it to him immediately, because of _course_ it does.

The dark-haired dude holds it out to Lance like it’s burning his fingers, and Lance has to choke back a laugh. “They’re clean,” he reassures the other.

(At least, he _thinks_ they’re clean. But he’ll keep that bit to himself.)

“Sorry,” the guy mumbles, and picks his groceries back up once the boxers are out of his hand. Lance shrugs, because no need to make this any weirder than it already is -- and this other guy isn’t really helping with that. Some way to meet a neighbor.

“No biggie. I get it, everyone wants a piece of this, hard to resist.”

Keith doesn’t laugh. Actually, Keith is still staring at him like maybe he thinks Lance is an alien.

“... _Sooo_ , I’m Lance. You?”

“Uh. Keith.”

Keith looks like he’d rather be anywhere than right here, having this conversation. Too bad. Lance isn’t going to let his only impression of himself be _the underwear guy_. “And this is…?”

Again, Keith looks confused, until he realizes Lance is gesturing toward the kitten. It’s almost like he forgot it was there. “Oh. Red.”

“Red.” Red. _Red_. Was there a reason that sounded so familiar? “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Keith and Re-- Wait, _did you get this cat from KittyCade_?”

Lance spits out that last part so fast he isn’t sure if Keith heard him at all, but Keith proceeds to only look even more lost, if that were even possible. “I… Don’t know? My brother gave her to me.”

It’s the most words Lance has heard Keith spit out so far, but instead of commenting on that he pulls out his phone. He whips through the Kittycade instagram (he’s already logged in) and scrolls down until he finds…

“Red!” he holds out his phone, practically shoving it into Keith’s face on accident. Keith takes a few steps backward, so he can see it properly.

“... Yeah, that looks like her?”

“Oh my God, that’s where the little demon went!” Lance squints down at the kitten, and he swears she winks at him. _Winks_.

“Uh.” Keith says. And, oh right, Lance forgot that he has no context for this. He’s still not really making a much better impression than he was before. Maybe he should have just stayed as “ _underwear guy_ ”.

“Oh! Right, sorry. I work for the shelter -- uh, cafe -- no, _cat arcade_ that this kitten came from.” Allura gets really mad when they don’t refer to it by the proper name. Thinks that the _arcade_ part is what really makes it stand out.

And money can be tight sometimes, so. They _need_ it to stand out.

Lance holds the picture up again, but this time doesn’t shove it in Keith’s face in overexcitement. “See? I took this photo. I’m the social media manager.” the description below the picture of Red is a bit crude, but apparently it worked. He was just giving his honest opinion -- it’s better for the cats that way, too. They’re giving these animals _homes_ , not selling a product.

( _And_ if he does say so himself, his descriptions always catch attention for being fun and different. It’s good for the organization.)

“Oh.”

Keith is shifting his weight back and forth, and Lance wonders if the bags are heavy. They’re red, unmarked tote bags, the reusable kind you can buy from grocery stores near the check-out. He’s still looking uncomfortable -- a little bit less confused now, but still like he’d rather be inside his own house. Lance can’t exactly blame him.

“Yep. Anyway, spitfire over there,” he glances down at the kitten, who’s now weaving between Keith’s legs, “has been getting into my house. I’ll try and figure out how, but that means she’s getting out of yours, too, so maybe you should look around.”

“... Yeah, I’ll do that.”

This guy is so awkward. Lance decides to finally have mercy. “Alright-y. Better get back to my own place, I think I left the door open in my mad dash. See you around, Keith.”

/

Pidge had almost died laughing when Lance told her about Red.

“ _And you didn’t even recognize her at first? That cat was so much trouble, I’d remember her instantly on sight. She had that weird white swirl right on top of her head! God, what are the odds? Of all the places that could have adopted her in this city--_ ”

Pidge seemed sure that the cat would end up back in his apartment somehow, but Lance was sure she wouldn’t. After all, Keith knew now. Maybe Lance hadn’t figured out how she was getting in, but surely Keith would figure out how she was getting _out_ , right?

And now, he’s glad Pidge isn’t here right now to laugh even harder at him, because Red is in his living room again. Right in front of the front door.

 _And she has his phone charger in her mouth_.

Before he can even make a move she rolls from her position on her back to on her feet, cord still dangling, held firmly between her teeth. She kicks off with her hind legs like she’s part Cheetah, taking off right between his legs and through the front door that’s still hanging open.

God. _Damn_. It.

He makes chase for her just like he had yesterday, with the only difference being the _clat-clat-clat_ sound his charger is making as she drags it down the stairs with her. It’s almost impressive, that she can carry it when she’s _so tiny_ herself, but he guesses he shouldn’t underestimate the mischievousness of a cat that’s hellbent on getting into his house so often.

She is a little bit slower this time, so he’s just barely behind her. He thinks he’s going to figure out the big secret -- how she’s managing to sneak out all the time -- but she totally surprises him by jumping up and squeezing through the small gap in the window. It was only cracked a little, but considering how small she is, it’s no problem at all.

The charger disappears, too, right along with her.

Lance has to blink a few times to process what he just witnessed.

She… Slipped through the window?

Keith’s front window,

doesn’t have a fucking _screen_?

He almost can’t believe that. How do you _not_ notice that? Or did Keith notice it, and just didn’t care? Did he not think that she could get out through that crack -- how could he not think that though, she’s _tiny_? And cats are totally known for squeezing through weird spaces.

Also, what a total security issue. Anyone could just…

… Lift the window the rest of the way up… And crawl in…

…

He really, really needs that phone charger.

(He _only_ had two, and he always left the other one back at KittyCade.)

This is fine, Lance thinks to himself, as he slips his hands under the window and pushes up. No one’s going to see him and call the police, because nobody is home yet. It’s still a little early for people to be arriving home from work yet. And he’ll be in-and-out, no problem. This apartment can’t be that big. He’ll run in, grab the charger, not disturb anything, and climb back out and _close the window all the way_.

No harm, no foul.

It’s only illegal if you get caught. And if you steal something. And he’s technically only stealing something that was stolen from him in the first place, so it’s not stealing at all. It’s _fine_.

Lance is done reassuring himself by the time his feet land in Keith’s living room. The lights are off, but it’s light enough out that he doesn’t need to turn on anything to see, the sun filtering in through all the windows. _Good_. The layout is also familiar -- furniture in different places, but these apartments are all based on the same model. This shouldn’t take long at all.

He makes his way through the living room, checking the corners and under the couch, just in case. This cat is smart though, she’s probably hiding somewhere trickier. In a cabinet, maybe? His feet instinctually take him toward the kitchen.

“Here, kitty-kitty… C’mere, Red.” he crouches down the floor, squatting and shuffling around the kitchen tile at the same time. He opens every cabinet and shifts things around. Already this is taking longer than he wanted. This would be easier if he had something to lure her out with… Lance spots her food and water bowl, but it’s still half-full. Regular kibble isn’t going to cut it.

Keith had to have cat treats somewhere though, right?

He stands up and checks the cabinets, trying to go through them thoroughly while still being fast. Where would Keith keep cat treats…

He looks around the room, something occuring to him.

And then he backtracks to the living room.

And then Lance pokes his head into the bathroom, and then finally, opens the door to the one bedroom.

There isn’t a cat toy in sight. Not any kind of jingling balls, or catnip-stuffed fake mice, or even any cat trees. Nothing to climb on, nothing to play with.

What the _hell_. No wonder she was so unruly -- what did he think she was going to do while he was gone, turn on the TV and watch it? Has this guy ever even owned a cat before?

“ _Red_ ,” Lance calls out, checking under the bed of Keith’s room. Actually, as he’s moving through rooms, he realizes the whole house is kind of bare-bones. Maybe it’s because he just recently moved in, but Keith had about the necessities he needed and not much else. Weird. “Come here, Red! I know you’re bored, but there are better things to do than steal my stuff.” like what, though? Man. Maybe she’s just keeping all her toys hoarded away somewhere, so they aren’t out in the open. Some cats do that.

A door that’s slightly ajar catches Lance’s attention. The closet. _Bingo_.

He tiptoes over to it carefully, and pokes his head through the crack. Nowhere to run now.

Red looks up at him with bright, innocent eyes as she sits upon a throne of at least five pairs of his underwear. His phone charger is laying in front of her, a gift for her majesty. Next thing, she’ll be shredding his blinds and draping them around her little head like a crown.

 _Cats_.

“ _That’s_ where they’ve been--”

Tragedy strikes at the most inconvenient times. In the distance, he hears the front door unlock. Deadbolt first, and then the doorknob itself.

 _Lance suddenly knows true fear_.

His options flash through his mind, all of the scenarios playing out within about .05 seconds. He could step out of the room right now, explain himself, let Keith know about the window. That’s the reasonable answer.

But Lance doesn’t really know this guy. What if he’s the kind of person to carry around a knife on him at all times? He _looks_ like the type of person to carry a knife at all times. What if he’s kind of jumpy, and just the sight of Lance makes him grab his knife and lunge? Lance isn’t ready to die. Not because of a _phone charger_.

So he hops in the closet and shuts the door as quietly as he can while still being quick.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid_. He can practically hear Pidge cackling at this whole situation. If he lives to tell it to her and Hunk, he’ll make sure to spin it so he sounds more badass. In reality, he sinks to the floor. A jester for the queen of the undies. With the closet being shut, the room is almost completely dark... But the light filtering in from under the door is just enough to reflect off of Red’s eyes, and is almost the only thing Lance can see of her. She blinks up at him.

He sees _mirth_ in those big kitten eyes. He’s not even sure if that’s an emotion cats can express, but he just knows she’s internally laughing at him.

This damn cat.

Lance hears Keith shuffle around the apartment, his footsteps seemingly enhanced by the otherwise totally quiet atmosphere. Even his own breathing is quiet.

‘ _Please, please, please’_. Lance thinks, trying to somehow mentally project his thoughts to Red. He doesn’t have any evidence that cats are telepathic. But he also doesn’t have any evidence that they’re not, so something is better than nothing. ‘ _Please don’t give us away. I might actually die. And then, my blood will be on your paws.’_

She meows.

And it’s not a _mew_ , or a _mrow_. It’s a _**meow**_ , and it is _loud_.

Keith’s footsteps stop. “Red?”

At her name, she meows again, and Lance thinks for sure that he’s either going to die or be arrested. He scoops her up into his arms, hoping maybe he can somehow stop her from meowing anymore--

The door opens.

“What the fuck.”

It’s actually so bright, the light streaming in, that Lance has to wince. He hadn’t been in there for that long, but _man_. Him and Keith lock eyes, and Red stretches out of his arms and walks out of the closet casually. She leaves the charger there. ‘ _A gift, for you now_ ,’ he’s sure she’s saying. Probably telepathically transmitting it to him, you know, the way cats do.

There’s a beat of total silence. Keith hasn’t pulled out a knife yet, and Lance isn’t dead, so that’s something. He decides to take advantage of it.

“She’s been taking my underwear!” Lance finally busts out, said in the exact same way you’d accuse a kindergartener of stealing your legos if you, too, were five years old. He even points at the pile of boxers, as if that’s going to help the situation.

Keith’s hand is still on the doorknob to his closet. His whole body looks tense. “That doesn’t even begin to explain half of -- Get out of my closet!”

Lance scrambles out, grabbing his phone charger on the way. And his boxers. He needs those.

Keith looks mad, now. Pissed even. It’s a refreshing change from confused, even if it is directed at Lance. He’s kind of handsome, when his eyebrows aren’t scrunched together.

(Well, they kind of are still now, but it’s still a different expression, and it looks a lot better on him.)

“How did you get in here!?” he demands, and slams the closet door shut. Lance puts his hands up in front of his chest in a way that he thinks maybe makes himself look innocent.

“The same way your cat has been getting out! Through your cracked-open window -- which doesn’t have a screen, by the way! Mystery solved, _you are welcome_.”

Keith looks taken aback for a second, but then goes back to looking angry. “You broke into my house!?”

“Technically I didn’t _break_ anything.”

“You came in through my window!”

“I didn’t touch anything! Oh, wait, no, that’s a lie. I was looking for cat treats --” Keith looks like he might pop, so Lance quickly backtracks, “-- But all I did was shift some stuff around! I was just gonna grab the charger, and leave the way I came.” _No harm, no foul_.

“You couldn’t have waited until I came _home_?”

“How am I supposed to know when you get back? It’s not like I stalked you and know your schedule!”

Keith doesn’t really look any more convinced, but his fists unravel and he crosses his arms over his chest instead.

He isn’t saying anything back this time, so Lance takes the opportunity to continue. “Look, I know I shouldn’t have come in. Actually, I don’t know what I was thinking. But, uh, it happened, I freaked out, you freaked out, can we call it truce? I’m really sorry I came into your house. And your room. And your closet.” he adds the last parts for good measure, holding out his hand. Keith stares at it, but doesn’t uncross his arms.

“... We didn’t get to shake hands when we first met. You had your hands full.” Lance says.

Keith’s eyes flick from Lance’s hand to his face, like he’s trying to figure out if Lance is genuine, or if he should trust him, or _something_. Lance notices that his eyes are dark, but kind of have a purplish tint to them. _Huh_.

Finally, just when Lance thinks Keith is really going to leave him hanging, Keith reaches out and shakes Lance’s hand. His grip is firm.

“... Sorry my cat has been taking your stuff.” Keith isn’t smiling or anything, but the anger has melted off of his face, and Lance will take what he can get. “That’s… Really weird.”

“Yeah. But cats are kind of weird in general.” Lance shrugs. “I mean, not a big deal. I had plenty more pairs.”

Actually, he was just thinking he’d have to go buy some more before he found out where they were _mysteriously_ disappearing to. But he won’t mention that.

“Uh-huh.” Keith lets go of Lance’s hand. “I guess.”

He _guesses_? What, that Lance had plenty of pairs of underwear? What kind of person did Lance look like for someone to just make that…

Oh. Oh, wait.

“You guess cats are weird?”

He gets a shrug in response. “Yeah.”

Somewhere else in the apartment, he hears Red meow. It’s a sign from the queen herself. He’s getting somewhere.

“Keith, have you ever owned a cat before?”

Keith looks at him suspiciously, like it’s some kind of trick question. Lance had to admit, this guy was pretty expressive for someone who only seemed to have one emotion ( _confused_ ) when he first met him. Color him surprised.

“... No?”

Yeah, well, that was exactly the response Lance was expecting. Actually, it makes sense -- he probably didn’t have treats in this place at all, did he? No treats, no toys, no tall place for the cat to perch on...

Lance isn’t the cat expert. Actually, he doesn’t even really interact with the cats nearly as much as Pidge, or Hunk, or even Coran do. He’s there to take pictures, and to observe the behavior. Try and catch their personalities so he can make posts for all the cats. He has two priorities: promote them so they can get more donations, and promote the cats so that they can find new homes.

But he knows enough about cats to know that maybe Red wouldn’t be quite so unruly if Keith knew remotely anything about how to take care of her, besides giving her food and water.

“You’re new here, right?” Lance decides to phrase his idea like an offer. A friendly hangout. “I have some friends I think you’d like. They’re way into cats. They’re over at my apartment like, half the week. Maybe you could stop by sometime?”

Keith looks skeptical.

“They run the place I was telling you about. KittyCade? They could really help you out. And maybe stop, you know.” he holds up the underwear he still has clenched in his other hand. “This whole business.”

Seeing the boxers again seems to make something in Keith’s head click. He looks away, frowning, but it convinces him. “... Okay.”

“Great!” Lance shoots him a big grin and a thumbs up, backing toward the door. “Then I’ll see you on Friday?”

“Fri--?”

“That’s the first day Pidge and Hunk’ll be over. You’ll love them! See you then!”

Lance shuts the door behind him, feeling proud.

And maybe a little excited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back on my FLUFFY BS
> 
> this spiralled so far out of control. i was like "i wanna try a cute oneshot about keith having a cat that steals lance's underwear" (which, btw, isnt my original idea at all -- ive been seeing that prompt float around for years) and then 4 pages of worldbuilding later i had a whole multichap outline.


	2. Chapter 2

  * kittycade




368 likes

This the best cat ever. No, seriously. She’s so smart that I’m trying to convince Allura to make the person who ever comes in to adopt her take an IQ test just to prove that they’ll be able to keep up with the absolute brilliance of this cat. I think we could fire Hunk and Pidge and just let this cat fix the arcade machines when they go down. Maybe we should fire me, too, and she can just run all the social media pages. I am 100% positive she is more than capable of it. All at once. Super intelligent. That's our Blue!  
  
On top of being the smartest cat alive, she is also full of nothing but love. Whenever we have movie night (every Saturday night, only 5 bucks admission to come in and watch movies that have a under-20-percent Rotten Tomatoes score! Come cuddle with cats and enjoy terrible flix with awesome people!) she curls up on my lap and snuggles the whole time. One time I fell asleep during my lunch break and I woke up because she was kneading my face. Also, she’s a great cat for venting your day to. She has these all-knowing, calming eyes. Just look at that photo attached to this post!  
  
If you think you’re smart enough for this cuddlebug, and ready to look deep into her all-knowing eyes of wisdom, come on down to KittyCade and see if Blue is a purr-fect (what? you think I'm done with this pun? yeah right.) fit for you.

  


\-- Lance  


#kittycade #PURRPURRPURR #SheMakesThatNoise #ItsNice #LOVEHER

  


/

* * *

  


Hunk was sitting on Lance’s couch that Friday afternoon, arranging a small array of cat-goodies in a basket on top of his too-soft couch. It had been a hand-me-down, given to him from someone who’d had it for three years after it had been given to _him_.

It was definitely, you know, broken in. _Comfortable_ , Lance liked to call it.

“You didn’t have to get him a gift basket,” Lance rolls his eyes. “I’m sure the guy can afford some treats and a few cheap toys.”

“It’s like a housewarming gift!” Hunk says. He’s still trying to get the perfect, cutest placement for all of the stuffed mice in the basket. “You said he moved in recently, right? So it’s not like it’s _weird_ , or anything.”

Pidge is hanging out with her feet kicked over the back of the couch, watching him with only mild interest. “But you aren’t his neighbor. So it’s still a little weird.”

“A little.” Lance agrees.

Hunk huffs and ignores them.

Lance hadn’t given Keith an exact time -- he doesn’t realize that until Friday morning, and by then it’s too late to casually saunter down and let him know. So… He figures Keith will just show up when he shows up. Or maybe he should go down there, and get him himself?

Except Lance doesn’t really ever know when Keith is home. There’s another apartment between them, so it’s not like he can hear Keith shuffle around or anything. And even if he did live directly above him, Keith doesn’t seem like the kind of person to make a ton of noise.

He makes a mental note to himself to get Keith’s phone number. That would have made this so much easier.

Pidge swings her legs around so she’s sitting right-side-up again, and stretches. “I’m gonna make some popcorn,” she states, before getting up and walking into the kitchen like it’s _her_ apartment. Lance should start charging the both of them rent, honestly.

(Except he’s the one who invites them over, so maybe not.)

Hunk finally looks pleased with the basket, and sets it down by the bottom of the couch. “I can’t believe this guy got a cat, and doesn’t even know anything about them.” he says, although it isn’t the first time any of them have seen something like that. People return cats to KittyCade all the time -- it’s part of the adoption contract, that if anything should happen and you can’t keep the cat anymore, you _have_ to bring it back to them.

Some people just don’t quite know what they’re getting into.

“Well, that’s what we’re here for,” Lance’s voice is confident. “He’s just a little misguided, that’s all. I’m sure his heart is in it, though.”

Honestly, Lance can kind of see Keith being a cat person. Quiet, a little bit prickly on the outside, probably totally yearning for love within. That’s what makes a good cat owner. It’s like science.

“You have a weird look on your face.” Hunk says, pulling Lance back to reality. “Are you thinking about something weird again?”

“No. … Maybe.”

“Lance is always thinking about something wei-- _augh_!” Pidge interrupts her own sentence, voice carrying from the kitchen. “Lance, when was the last time you threw the trash!?”

“Uhhhhhh.” is his eloquent response. Hunk pulls a face that’s somewhere between disgusted and amused.

“ _Lance_!”

“I’ve been busy, okay!” he calls back to her, sighing and sinking further into the soft couch pillows. _Ahh_.

She stomps out from the kitchen, one hand holding her nose closed and the other holding out the trashbag. Oh. It _did_ look rank.

“You look at this,” she says, “and take a big whiff, and think about what you’ve done. Contemplate your mistakes.”

Holy hell on wheels does it stink. His trashcan must have been covering up most of the odor, because now that it was out it was like the most ungodly scent he’d ever smelled. Lance distantly thinks he remembers cleaning out his fridge sometime last week, throwing out the bad milk and eggs and then getting distracted by something else before he could take it to the dumpster. _Oops_.

“Pidge, take that out! It’s stinking up the whole apartment!”

“It’s _your_ trash!” Pidge snaps back. Her voice is nasally-sounding, a result from her still holding his nose. Lance doesn’t even want to breathe in through his mouth with that thing around -- what if he _tasted_ it? “You should suffer for your own bad decisions!”

“But now we’re _all_ suffering!” Hunk points out, and Pidge still scowls. Lance thinks she’s definitely the kind of person who would pull a grenade and blow herself up if it meant taking down her enemies with her.

Lance leans over to get a better look at the abomination, and feels his stomach revolt at what he sees. There’s… Something, leaking out of the bag, right onto Pidge’s tennis shoes. Oh, he’d never hear the end of this for sure.

“Pidge…”

“ _What_?”

“The bag is…”

She looks down, and almost screams -- but it gets choked in her throat. Lance thinks she’s going to drop it, and then there’s going to be nasty bits of trash for him to clean up _everywhere_ , but to her credit she reaches for the front door, jerking it open and hurls that bag as hard as she can toss it out of the apartment.

_Unfortunately_ , maybe her just dropping it would have been the better option. As soon as it leaves her hand she gasps, and they all three watch as it smacks straight into Keith, who just happened to be standing right in front of the door.

She doesn’t seem him until way too late, but even though he’s caught entirely off-guard he still manages to grab the bag as it hits him, only stumbling backwards a little bit. It’d be pretty impressive, if it didn’t also mean that he was covered in a concoction of curdled milk and rotten egg mucus and god only knows what else.

The bag, to it’s credit, doesn’t break -- just continues oozing. Keith is slowly starting to realize what’s happening, and just as he starts to open his mouth Pidge snags the disgusting bag out of his hands and bolts down the stairs, making a mad dash for the dumpster before she can be blamed for this.

Lance is still sitting on his couch, staring directly at Keith.

(And maybe trying really, really hard not to laugh.)

“I, uh,” his shoulders are shaking with the effort of keeping a straight face. Keith still looks totally shell-shocked. “Maybe you should head back down and clean that off?”

Looking numb, Keith slowly retreats back down the stairs.

/

Okay, Keith definitely deserved more of an apology than that and Lance was going to give it to him. He gave him forty-five minutes, which was exactly how long it took him and Hunk to try and scrub all the liquid off of the floor, and Lance figured that was plenty of time for Keith to take a shower.

They had evacuated Lance’s house, for now. Left all the windows possible open and high-tailed it out of there, because the spill was cleaned up but the _stink_ was there to stay. It was fine, Lance figured -- it just moved his plan along a little faster than he thought. They could all go hang out in KittyCade instead, and maybe Allura or Coran could show him proper cat etiquette around actual cats.

Lance knocks on the door, Pidge and Hunk on either side of him, and Keith’s hair is still wet when he answers. Wow.

He looks disturbed, but expectant. Lance clears his throat.

“Okay, let’s try this again. Pidge, this is Keith, Keith, this is the girl who tossed my trashbag at you.”

“Sorry,” she says, but she still kind of looks like she’s holding back a laugh. Well, good enough. “I didn’t realize you were right there.”

“It’s… Not really a big deal. I was just surprised.”

“Well, you have really good reflexes, that’s for sure.” Pidge replies.

Keith blinks in acknowledgement. Lance takes this as a cue to continue. “And this is Hunk, Hunk, Keith. Hunk is always innocent. He didn’t do anything, except for make you a housewarming gift.”

Hunk holds out the basket. Keith takes it from him, and gives him a confused, but sincere half-smile.

“Uh… Thanks. You didn’t have to, though. You aren’t even my neighbor.”

Pidge snickers and elbows Hunk.

“Eh, it’s fine, he’s over at my place so much he might as well be.” Lance shrugs, and Keith places the basket on an end table near his door. “Anyway, change of plans! Since my place smells like a stink bomb went off in it, we were thinking we could go somewhere else.”

“... Somewhere else?” Keith raises an eyebrow, prompting him to continue. Hunk pipes up this time.

“KittyCade! It’s where we all work. It’s like… A cat cafe, except there are arcade games there you can play. We’ve got a ton of old machines, and a few newer ones too. It’s pretty sweet.” Hunk always gets worked up over the machines -- he and Pidge do a great job of maintaining them, if Lance said so himself.

Keith, for a fraction of a second, looks like he might say no. But then --

“Okay. Give me a second to put my shoes on.”

/

“I’m sorry,” Allura says as they enter, without looking up from a stack of papers in front of her. “We’re actually just cleani--”

“Hi, Allura.” Pidge interrupts, and Allura lifts her eyes up, recognition flickering through them.

“Oh! Pidge, Hunk, Lance.” she says each of their names in greeting, but her gaze lingers on Keith. “And this is…”

“Uh. Keith.” he says, and her face lights back up again.

(You _know_ Lance didn’t miss out on the opportunity to tell everyone here about Keith’s demon cat. Come on.)

“Keith! Oh, Lance has mentioned you. The new neighbor, right? The one who adopted Red?” she smiles at him, serenely, and then looks contemplative for a second. “Although, I thought I remembered the person who adopted her looking, erm… Taller…”

Huh. Lance didn’t remember that, although Allura was the one who usually handled the adoptions. (Including all the paperwork. Blech.)

“That was my brother.” Keith clarifies. “He thought a cat would be… Good. For me.”

Allura _hmms_ , contemplatively. “Well, as long as the cat is happy, I guess it doesn’t really matter. I’m sure Lance would have done something if she wasn’t doing well.” she smiles again. “Anyway, I’d love to show you around but I’m a bit busy. I’m sure those three can handle it?”

“You know it.” Hunk replies, giving her a small wave. “That’s what we’re here for! First stop: the cat room.”

The lobby isn’t very spacious, with really just the front desk and a small chair beside the entrance, but once you move toward the back and open the door, it’s like a different world.

The walls are painted brightly, but not in a childish way -- bold colors that attract your eye, geometric designs that stand out. It’s really got a _certain_ kind of vibe, one that screams _stylish_ or _trendy_. And that’s just at first glance, _before_ you see all the cats.

And cats, there are. Allura tries to only keep around twenty, but she’d never turn away a stray that someone brings in, and so there can sometimes be up to thirty five. It’s big enough to accommodate them all, with cat trees and hammocks and toys in every single place you can look. There are cats sunning themselves by the window, taking naps on couches and chairs placed around, chasing toys through the center of the room. It’s a lot to take in, especially at first, but to Lance…

This place practically feels like home.

A sleek, gray cat saunters it’s way over to where they’re standing, and rubs against Lance’s pant legs. He reaches down to scratch behind her ears.

“Hey, Blue! My favorite photogenic cat.” he runs a hand down her back, and then stands back up. She blinks up at Keith owlishly.

“This is Blue.” he says, “One of the most even-tempered cats in here. And also, a total _camera-hog_.” Lance winks down at her, for good measure.

“... Blue?” Keith has a tone of voice that makes Lance think that he’s about to ask if they name all the cats after colors in here.

(Which _no_ , they don’t.)

(Well, not _all_ of them.)

“Because she’s a Russian Blue. Her breed.” Lance explains. Keith kind of looks like he’s trying not to smirk, when he says,

“Ah, creative,”

And Lance gives a huff. “Well, you try and come up with good names for as many cats as we see all the time! Sometimes, you just… Come up with the first thing that pops into your head. Right, Hunk?”

Hunk is sitting on the couch, engrossed in his phone. He looks up at the mention of his name. “Huh? What?”

“When did you get over there?” Lance demands, and then realizes that Pidge isn’t where she was either. He spots her out of the corner of his eye, playing with one of the cats with a feather dangling off a rope. Wow, how helpful they are. “I thought we were giving him the tour!”

“ _You_ give him the tour.” Pidge says, looking up at him from where she’s crouched on the floor. “We give people tours all the time.”

“Yeah, man. I’m off the clock.” there’s a cat curled up in Hunk’s lap now, too. It would be a terrible offense to make him move _now_.

Lance rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’ll show our _guest_ around.” it wasn’t like there was much more to it. He moves forward, toward a door in the back painted entirely black. There’s a hole cut in the bottom, with a magnetic flap attached to it. Blue and Keith both follow him.

“This is the arcade room. The last thing to really show you, to be honest. Everything else is storage and stuff.” A little place with a whole lot of heart. He opens up the door, and Keith blinks. Lance knows what he’s thinking -- it’s kind of crammed in here, but there are a _lot_ of arcade machines.

“Wow,” Keith says, sounding pretty impressed for someone who Lance thinks only emotes twenty percent of the time. “How’d you guys get all these?”

“Some of ‘em were donations, I think. A few were broken down, so we got them for free -- Pidge and Hunk can get anything up and running again, so it’s a really good deal for us. Otherwise, we find them for cheap where we can.”

Blue meows behind them. They both turn around.

“The cats can come back here?”

Lance shrugs. “If they want. A lot of them don’t like it -- too noisy. And we have to lock it up if one of the machines breaks down, so that the cats don’t get in here around the wires. But other than that…” he glances down at Blue. “They don’t hurt anything. Isn’t that right, Blue?”

She meows in response. He grins down at her. And then, suddenly, smacks his palm into his other hand. He always does that when he has a genius idea -- Pidge says it’s one of his dumbest quirks.

“Wait, this is perfect! Blue is the _best_ cat to show you proper cat etiquette with. She’s super tolerant!”

“Cat… Etiquette.” Keith repeats. Lance rolls his eyes, because he knows this isn’t the first time he’s used that term around him. Maybe his hearing comprehension rate is as low as his emote-ing rate.

“Yes, cat-etiquette. Cat-iquette. Just the basics. Cats are super smart, so they speak their own language. It’s not hard to learn. Here.” he crouches down, and gestures for Keith to join him. Blue bumps her head against his hand.

Reluctantly, Keith crouches down too.

“First thing’s first: always stick out your hand when you’re greeting a cat. They can smell where you’ve been that way, and it’s super non-threatening.” Lance extends his hand out, and Blue rubs the top of her head into it. He pulls it back. “Just like that. Your turn.”

Keith frowns at Lance, but obliges, reaching out his hand toward the cat.

She blinks at it,

Once,

Twice,

Moves a little closer and sniffs it.

And then, finally, she bumps her head against his fingers.

“Aw, she likes you!” Lance says. He leaves out the part where Blue likes just about everyone, because he can see the corners of Keith’s lips start to twitch up, like he’s going to start smiling. He doesn’t think he’s seen Keith smile yet, or at least not a real _full_ one. “Once they start doing that, you can pet them. She’s practically _begging_ you to, actually.”

Keith runs his hand across Blue’s fur, and she purrs like an engine. He’s keeping to just her back, but Lance decides to throw in a lesson on no-spots, just in case. “Usually don’t touch their stomachs, by the way. I mean, unless you like getting clawed up. The back is the safest spot, some cats don’t mind their chest or under their chin. It all depends.”

“Are you saying I should just try and pet somewhere and see if my arm gets torn to shreds or not to figure out if a cat likes it?” Keith’s voice is serious, but there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes. Lance gives him the most serious look back he can muster.

“ _Real_ cat owners pay for their love in _blood_.”

The corner of Keith’s lips do that twitch thing again, where it almost looks like he’s going to smile but then decides not to. He turns his focus back to Blue and Lance taps the bottom of his lip thoughtfully.

“Hm… What else… Oh, yeah, eye contact! Don’t make too much of it. Or else it comes off as a challenge.”

“... To what?”

“... To… I don’t know? I just know they don’t like it, okay! You gotta look at them real soft. And blink. Slow.”

Keith has his full attention on Lance again. “Look at them _soft_?”

“Yeah, you know. Like the opposite of how you look, basically all the time.”

Keith scoffs. “Give me an example.”

“Okay, fine!” he scoots so he’s more directly facing Keith. “Look into my eyes, and try to mimic it.”

In all honesty, Lance isn’t sure Keith can. He constantly looks like he’s half-ready to sprint out of any situation, or maybe _into_ a situation, either way. The soft look doesn’t seem like it’ll come naturally to him, so maybe Lance should have mentioned something else. Still…

Huh. Keith’s eyes are _really_ pretty. The arcade room is kind of dark, but it’s lit up enough that he can make out Keith’s face perfectly. The purple in them still stands out -- so weird, is he sure that isn’t some kind of trick of the light? -- but mostly his eyes are _dark_. Light reflects off of it in a way that’s really breathtaking. Lance has half a mind to pull his phone out and take a picture.

“Like this?” Keith is really trying, he is. Lance can tell, once he pulls himself out of getting lost in his own thoughts… About Keith’s eyes.

“Closer. Just a little more. Think about something… Uh, that you like.”

That seems to help. He’s nearly got it, now, managing to look less intimidating in the process. Lance involuntarily leans a little bit closer, just to get a better look. “Good, perfect! Now you just have to blink. Slowly. It’s kind of like a cat greeting.” he deliberately closes his eyes, and opens them back up, extra exaggerated to make an example.

Keith copies him, but does it too fast.

“No, slower. Like…” Lance repeats what he did before, and Keith does it back. Yeah, he’s getting the hang of it!

“Right! One more time…”

Lance slow-blinks.

Keith slow-blinks back.

Lance grins. _Perfect_.

Someone clears their throat from the door.

Both Lance and Keith jerk backward like a fire just appeared between them, and _holy hell_ , when did they get that close in the first place? He knew he had kind of been leaning in, just to make it easier for Keith, but their noses were dangerously close to touching. How did neither of them notice that?

“Uh,” Hunk says, clearly feeling like he just interrupted something. He didn’t. ( _Did he_?)

“I was just!” Lance says, and he realizes his voice sounds just a teeny bit squeaky, so he takes a breath first and tries again. “Just teaching Keith how to, you know, greet a cat properly. With the gaze. And the blinking, and all.”

“... Oh, okay.” Hunk says, and this is why he’s Lance’s favorite -- because if it were Pidge, she would have made this thirty times more awkward than it already is. “I was just checking in, to see what was up. Pidge was complaining about being hungry, so.”

Yeah, of course popcorn wouldn’t be enough to fill a gremlin up.

Lance hops to his feet, and makes the conscious effort to leave whatever awkward thing just transpired there on the floor. It’s gone now, goodbye, he won’t even think of it again. Time to be normal. “Yeah, this is probably enough of a crash course in one day. Can’t learn it all at once.”

Keith stands up, too, and Lance risks a glance at him. He’s looking just a little pink in the cheeks, and that’s yet another new expression. Maybe Lance should make a chart: ‘ _Confirmed Keith Expressions’_.

… Ooh, that was a weird train of thought he just went to, there. He shakes his head, like he’s physically dispelling the intrusive idea out of his mind. Somewhere in the cat room, Pidge yells out “ _Can we go yet_?”, and Lance actually does forget about it.

For awhile.

/

They head to the pizza place next door -- the one that they frequent so often, the staff already knows their order. Keith just goes along with it, and they split their usual between four instead of three. It’s still more than enough.

And Keith is… Surprisingly, not as awkward as Lance thought he’d be. He isn’t sure if it’s just the company (Pidge and Hunk do a great job of making him feel like he’s just always been apart of their little group), but it doesn’t take long before Keith catches onto their witty banter and is tossing out bits of his own. It’s a far cry from the guy who, just a few days ago, avoided eye contact with him and shifted awkwardly in front of his own door.

Maybe he’s just the kind of person to need to warm up, first.

And that’s where the night should have ended: all of them heading their separate (or, _mostly_ separate -- considering the whole _neighbors_ thing) ways after a fun night out, maybe with a promise to do this again sometime soon. Keith got a few pointers on cat behavior, Lance befriended his neighbor, it was all good.

Until Lance walked back into his house, and nearly gagged.

To be honest, the whole trashbag incident had been pushed so far to the back of his mind he didn’t even give it a second thought after they took off with Keith. _That was a mistake_. Leaving the windows open didn’t seem like it had done anything at all -- it was almost like the smell was even _worse_. Lance takes two steps into his home, (one to think “ _what the hell is that disgusting smell_?” and another to remember “ _oh god it’s the trashbag juice,_ ”) and immediately turns around, heading straight for the stairs in an attempt to put as much space as possible between him and the odor of doom.

Keith isn’t even all the way into his own apartment by the time Lance comes hauling down the stairs. His key unlocks the deadbolt with a satisfying _click_ , and he turns around and frowns. Lance wonders how many times he’s going to run down those stairs and end up feeling like he’s dying by the time he hits the ground.

“... What’s wrong?”

Keith almost hesitates before asking, which makes Lance frown. Rude.

“Uh…. Small odor problem?” actually, he hadn’t thought this far ahead. He was too busy running from the smell before it gained sentience and actually started chasing after him. At Keith’s face, he clarifies, “You know. From the trash earlier.”

The half-curiosity half-alarm on Keith’s face is immediately replaced by disgust. _Yeah, you’re telling me, buddy_. “That’s gross.”

“I’m gonna need to deep clean that apartment _so bad_.”

But not tonight. Tonight was late, and he thought he might die if he had to stay in there and actually breathe in the air. Better get a gas mask first (And maybe a hazmat suit.). By the time he got to either Pidge or Hunk’s, it’d be super late -- out of all of his options, just crashing on the couch at KittyCade was looking like his best choice. Allura would understand.

That uncomfortable look returns back to Keith’s face, like he wanted to say something but also _really_ doesn’t. Lance waits on his decision.

“... Where… Are you going to stay tonight, then?”

Lance blinks. Was he about to offer what it _sounds_ like he’s about to offer?

“Uh. Probably just sleep with the cats, tonight. You know, good old fashioned 100% pure kitten blanket to keep me warm.”

“In KittyCade?”

_No, at some other random shelter_. “Yep.”

“... By yourself?”

“Of course not.” Lance says. “There’s at least thirty cats there.”

“Is that even allowed?”

“It is if no one stops me.”

Keith looks at him flatly. “And is that what went through your head before you broke into my apartment?”

“No, I think that was more along the lines of _‘Can’t get caught if he doesn’t know I was ever here_.’” Lance crosses his arms. “Why are you asking all this?” might as well cut to the chase.

Keith looks like he’d much rather do anything _but_ that, though. He looks like he’s contemplating something. Lance is reminded of a buffering YouTube video.

After whatever internal struggle he has inside, he finally finishes unlocking the door to his apartment and holds it open for Lance with a sigh. Not an _upset_ sounding one, but more like the sound of a person who’s resigned to their fate.

Even though Lance had been half-expecting it, he still gapes. “Seriously?”

Keith shrugs. “It’s just a night, right? I have a couch, too.”

Lance thinks about telling him no -- but also thinks about how Pidge and Hunk are over 30 minutes away, and the KittyCade is almost twenty, and Keith’s house is approximately five seconds away from his own. Really, he’d be stupid not to agree.

“Okay.” Lance says, and follows Keith in.

His apartment doesn’t look any different in the night-time, aside from the obvious: there’s no sunlight to lighten up the rooms. Keith flips on the lightswitch, and Lance shuffles in further and sits on the couch.

Keith ducks into his room, and then comes out and heads to the kitchen. Everything is in the same place it is in Lance’s apartment -- he could probably navigate this place with his eyes closed, barring running into unfamiliar furniture.

(Keith’s couch isn’t nearly as cushy as his own, he notes.)

It’s too early for bed, Lance realizes. Too early to just fall asleep, but too late to go out and do anything until it _is_ time to sleep. If he were in his own house, he’d just binge Netflix until he passed out. Here, he sits on his neighbors couch while said neighbor bangs around in his kitchen. It was weird. Lance didn’t know what was off-limits.

Except… Well.

_Talking_ was never off-limits.

“So, _Keith_ ,” he drawls. The banging from the kitchen stops. “What do you do for a living?”

They’d all spent a lot of time together today, but Keith knew what the three of _them_ did. Lance didn’t hardly know anything about Keith. He almost can’t believe he didn’t think to ask about it before now. Hopefully he wasn’t chilling with a serial killer.

Keith reappears in the entryway between the kitchen and living room. “Journalist.” he pauses. “Or…. _Columnist_. I write for an online site.”

His faces scrunches up in a way Lance can’t quite read, but thinks might signal a negative reaction if he tries to poke more information from it. Whatever’s going on there, he’ll have to find out another time.

“Oh, that’s neat!” Lance says, keeping his voice chipper. “So kind of like Buzzfeed?”

“Kind of.” Keith agrees.

…

Normally, when two people have a conversation, it’s a back-and-forth process. Like tennis, someone serves the ball and the other person hits it back until you run out of things to discuss.

Talking with Keith one-on-one, however, was more like serving the ball over the net and then watching while Keith grabs it out of midair with his bare hands and shoves it into his pocket. But that’s _fine_ , Lance has always been good at rules changing on the fly anyway.

“So your brother,” Lance starts, and Keith disappears into the kitchen again, but Lance knows he can hear him. “Just brought you a cat? Totally unsolicited?” Red is lounging on the armrest of the couch furthest from him, looking more peaceful than he’s ever seen her. Keith comes back, holding two glasses of soda. _Oh, so that’s what he was doing_.

Keith doesn’t answer for a moment as he hands Lance his glass, but looks contemplative, so Lance knows he isn’t just ignoring him.

“I think he had a motive for it.” he finally says, cryptically. It’s like everything Keith states has some kind of secret mystery behind it. No wonder Lance was trying so hard to try and get to know this guy -- he was like a walking enigma. “Shiro just… Worries. I think.”

Keith sits down on the couch, on the other end next to where Red is napping, and Lance thinks.

_Shiro_. A name for the mysterious brother! He opens his mouth to ask more about him, but Keith finally picks up the metaphorical tennis racket and serves a ball back to him. “What about you? A person who works with cats, but you don’t own one?”

“Oh,” Lance says. He should have been expecting this question -- but honestly, he always seems to forget. Pidge or Hunk must have brought that up during dinner. He spends so much time around the cats, they’re kind of like _his_ to him anyway.

(Until they aren’t, but you know.)

“I love cats. And dogs, and rabbits, and -- well, you get the idea.” he rubs the back of his head sheepishly as he continues, “My mama had a soft spot for animals, so whenever me or my siblings would find a stray she’d let us keep them. It was always ‘ _Until the actual owner comes to find them’_ , but usually the actual owner never showed up, so… We had a lot of animals.

“But… And imagine this: everyone in my family except for me is allergic to cats. So whenever I did pick up a cat, it could never stay around long. It always turned the house into chaos, sneezing and snotting and tissues everywhere.”

Keith looks totally invested in Lance’s story. Lance is semi-surprised by that. “But you live on your own now, right? You could have a cat _now_.”

“Yeah… I _could_.” Lance agrees. “But then, what would I do if something happened to one of my siblings? Or Mama? If they had an emergency, and had to stay at my place for -- _whatever_ reason, they’d be miserable. And no one would come over to visit me, either.”

“... Huh.” Keith says, and Lance arches an eyebrow. He just shakes his head. “That’s just… Really thoughtful. Of you.”

Lance pulls a face. “I’ve known you for a day! You can’t act like me being thoughtful is a _surprise_ to you.”

“I didn’t say that.” Keith says.

“You were _thinking_ it.”

Keith takes a big drink out of his glass, and then turns his face away. Lance thinks he hears something that kind of sounds like a silent laugh, a short exhale through Keith’s nose.

He grins.

“So is your only sibling your one brother? Shiro?” Lance continues, unwilling to let them both fall back into silence. Keith nods.

“Just us two.”

Lance hates the way the other seems to almost clam up when he talks about himself. He wants to chip him open, to be able to properly _read_ him. “Did _you_ ever have any pets growing up?”

“I had a pet fish. It turned out to be pregnant when we bought it, and then it gave live birth. I didn’t even know fish did that. It ate all the babies within 24 hours and I cried for a full week.”

“... How old were you.”

Keith looks Lance dead in the eye. “Eight.”

Finally, Lance lets out a gut laugh that he’d been holding in. “Eight! You must have been so upset--”

“-- _Horrified_.” Keith corrects, but he’s grinning too. Keith had smiled more than a few times during their dinner with Hunk and Pidge, but it had never been directed toward Lance before. Lance doesn’t know what it means, that that thought even pops into his head. _Weird_.

“Horrified.” Lance says, nodding. “No wonder you never had any other pets again.”

“Nothing like seeing cannibalism at a young age to mess up a kid’s life.” Keith is still smiling. Lance doesn’t want to look away, like it’s something really so rare he can’t keep his eyes off of it. It disappears though, when Keith takes another drink, and then he stands back up again.

“I should probably get to bed,” he says. “Deadline tomorrow.” and he makes that face again, the one Lance still can’t read but is smart enough to know it’s definitely not any kind of good emotion.

“Oh, right.” Lance’s eyes slide over to the clock hanging on the wall. Had they really been talking for _that_ long? “I’ll just crash right here then. Sleep well?”

“Yeah.” Keith stares at Lance, for just a fraction of a second than was longer than strictly necessary (or maybe Lance was just making things up in his head.), before he turns and heads into his room.

Red gets up from where she was resting beside him, stretches, and skitters into the room just before Keith closes the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now we can get into the fun stuff
> 
> (boy i love me some pining boys)
> 
> thanks for reading guys!!!


	3. Chapter 3

  * kittycade




478 likes

CAN YOU PAINT WITH ALL THE COLORS (OF THE CATS?)  
  
So, you might have noticed a naming trend. You know, Red, Blue... Or at least, I did. So when we got this cutie and were trying to decide a name, I was like "Hey! Why don't we name this one Green? You know, 'cause we've had two cats named Red and Blue." and Pidge (that's the gremlin looking chick that's around here all the time, DO NOT feed after midnight) was like "Lance that's stupid and the cat isn't even green. This cat is like every color but green." and I was all "YEAH THAT'S THE JOKE"  
  
But nobody else had any better ideas, and of course my charm and wit won out in the end, and now I'm very happy to introduce you to Green!  
  
Her name ended up being ironically fitting, because she's addicted to the catnip mice we have scattered around. Like, most of the other cats become disinterested after being around them for so long, but this cat is INTO it. And she gets super cuddly when catnipped out, like Hunk the time he had his wisdom teeth pulled and the gas hadn't worn off yet.  
  
So anyway, come swing by the KittyCade and hang out with this cool stoner cat who just wants to love you furr-(HA)-ever and ever.  
  


\-- Lance  


#kittycade #calico #cats #Green #HahaGetIt #StonerJoke #GetIt #HaHaHa #ha

  


/

* * *

  


After the night Lance slept on Keith’s house, it was like something… Changed. Not immediately, but pretty damn fast: small things, for a few days, like Keith smiling and greeting Lance when he saw him outside. And then doing the same for Pidge and Hunk, whenever they came over. And then even _bigger_ things, after about a week: like Keith coming to the KittyCade entirely of his own volition.

(Yeah, that had shocked Lance too.)

The first time he came by, he had an excuse -- he had done some research online, and wanted to make sure he was feeding Red the same stuff she was eating before. The second, third, and fourth times though, not so much. Lance had a feeling that maybe they were the only people Keith really _knew_ , and well… He wasn’t exactly complaining. Keith was kind of stiff sometimes, but he was still a fun addition to their group. And the more he came by, the more he opened up. Less awkward, more dry sense of humor. (Not that they needed any more of _that_ , but he meshed well with their little group.)

Also. _Also_. Keith liked playing with the cats, and Lance might have taken a few good candid shots of that. For PR purposes, of course. He’d upload them to the site, maybe. Or make a new blog post. Instagram them?

It’s not like he was hoarding pictures of his neighbor. That would be weird. It was all for the benefit of the cats, _obviously_.

Lance is reminding himself of this as he snaps another picture. Keith is lying down on the ground, face pressed into the floor, and phone discarded on the couch… About as far away from it as he can get without going into the arcade room. There’s three kittens crawling on his back, _one chewing on his hair_ , and he hasn’t even lifted an arm to try and move her.

Lance, as nonchalantly and criminally smooth as he knows he is, leans against the wall next to where Keith is laying.

“Rough day at work?”

“Mmmnf.” comes Keith’s eloquent and muffled reply.

“Oh, yeah man, I totally get you. Having to deal with these kittens all day? Really stressful. Tough life.”

Keith lets out a huff of air, what Lance thinks is maybe his muffled version of a chuckle. He finally tilts his head to the side, cheek smushed against the floor where he’s lying to look up at Lance. He’s half-smiling. “Sounds really rough.”

“Don’t hate me ‘cause you ain’t me,” Lance replies, and bends down to grab the kitten that’s still desperately trying to consume Keith’s mullet. “But seriously.” he puts the cat on a pillow nearby. “What’s eating you?”

Keith lifts his head up a little bit more, eyeing Lance, like he’s taking him in.

And… Here’s the thing. It’s not the first time Keith has acted disgruntled about his job, but he _never_ talks about it. Sure, Lance knows the basics -- but anything beyond that? Nada. He doesn’t ever needle Keith for answers, but Keith just kind of… Avoids the topic on his own. And Lance doesn’t particularly feel like pushing him for answers when it’s none of his business.

He’s still curious, though.

Keith scrutinizes Lance for a second more, and then opens his mouth, and holy shit Lance thinks he might actually get some elusive details --

\-- And then Coran busts in.

“Movie night, tonight!” he shouts, and then everyone’s focus is on him. Including Keith’s. So close, yet so far -- _oh well_. Maybe Lance is finally getting somewhere, though. He’ll have to try again later.

Pidge pokes her head out from the Arcade room. “Already?”

“It’s 7PM, you know!” Coran says, and holy crap, _really_? Lance’s eyes flicker to the clock hanging over the couch, and he’s right. 6:57PM, to be precise, but holy hell. Where did the time go?

“What’s the theme tonight?” Allura asks, coming in just behind Coran. Her hair is up in a ponytail that almost looks haphazard -- _weird_ , for her. Allura somehow always manages to look put together, and Lance has to drag his gaze away. It feels like everyone is having issues they won’t talk about.

And then Coran holds up three DVDs, and Lance almost _groans_ when he recognizes the titles, even from across the room.

“Romantic Comedy!”

“Adam Sandler?” Hunk complains, but he’s already pulling over a bean-bag, Lance notes. “That’s low, Coran, even for us.”

Keith jerks straight up from where he was on the floor, so suddenly it almost makes Lance jump. He does scoot back a little bit. “ _Blended_ is a great movie.”

Everyone immediately turns to stare at him. Keith’s face is one-hundred-percent, completely genuine. His voice is serious.

_He’s_ serious.

“You’re _not_ serious,” Lance says, despite the fact that he absolutely is and Lance knows it. He’s the first brave enough to break the staggering silence, and Keith gives him a dirty look.

“Of course I’m serious,” Keith snaps, and crosses his arms in front of his chest. A defensive position. “It gets tons of hate for no reason, when it’s another great movie between Drew Barrymore and Adam Sandler.”

“You’re not _serious_ ,” Lance says again, starting to feel like he’s on the verge of begging Keith to say he’s joking, desperation creeping into his voice. Keith’s stony face doesn’t move an inch.

“Everyone loved them in 50 First Dates! This is another _good_ collaboration--”

“Please, I’ve heard enough.” Lance cuts him off while he rethinks their friendship. Keith huffs.

“Well,” Coran starts, “Glad we’ve got a fan in the house! Of course, there are two other movies here still!” he waves around _Failure to Launch_ and _The Wedding Planner_. Yeah, absolute classics.

Keith blinks, still obviously agitated, and starts to get up. When Lance realizes he’s heading for the door, he reaches out to lunge for his jacket, snagging him before he can walk away. “Uh, where do you think you’re going! You didn’t just make a big scene out of _Adam Sandler_ to just leave before we even watch the movie!”

Keith looks like he isn’t sure if he’s supposed to be taken aback or offended, face showing a confusing mix of _both_ emotions. “What? I mean -- _first off_ , it isn’t even about Adam Sandler, it’s about the onscreen chemistry -- and aren’t I interrupting _your_ guys’ thing?”

“Hardly.” Allura interrupts, before Lance can even say anything back to that. “It’s actually fun, the more people we have. Sometimes we even have movie nights that we open up for anyone to come join -- although ones like these are nice too. And it’s always more fun to have a fan of a movie with us.” she sounds serene, but there’s something about her voice that always seems to have a _commanding_ undertone.

Keith stares at her.

And that’s how Lance ends up next to Keith on one side of the couch, with Coran and Allura on the other and Pidge and Hunk in two bean bags in front.

And Lance wants it on the record -- he was totally right, the movie sucks.

All the movies they watch together suck, actually, but romantic-comedy nights are the worst. Don’t get Lance _wrong_ \-- a good romcom is amazing. He’s a sucker for a sweet love story. But a bad romcom is a mix of cringy suffering and bad onscreen chemistry… And _no_ , no matter what Keith says, Drew Barrymore and Adam Sandler _do not_ have good onscreen chemistry.

“She’s so out of his league.” Pidge says, halfway through the movie. Keith looks so enraptured, he doesn’t even argue.

And as it turns out, Keith isn’t just a fan of Blended. He’s just as invested in _Failure to Launch_. And _The Wedding Planner_. Even when everyone is starting to doze off, during the last one, he looks like he’s fighting sleep just to see it to the end.

“Dude,” Lance says, his voice a low whisper because Allura is curled up not that far away from him. He doesn’t have to speak very loud, because at some point he ended up pushed way closer to Keith than he had originally started out, _probably_ because Allura was slowly hogging more and more of the couch.

(She had looked so exhausted, though, and he didn’t really want to disturb her... So he let her do it. Even if he was now sitting uncomfortably close to Keith. Apparently movie night means a lack of personal space.)

Keith gives him a sideways glance. “Huh?”

“Are you telling me you’ve never seen these movies before? Because you’re watching the screen like you’ve never seen these movies before.” hard to believe, though. Keith shakes his head.

“Of course I’ve seen them. I own them on DVD.” he whispers back, and huh.

He shouldn’t be surprised, with Keith’s apparent love for _Blended_ ( _and 50 First Dates!?_ ) but the knowledge that Keith has, somewhere, a stash of romantic comedies on DVD still manages to shock the words right out of Lance.

Well, briefly.

“Do you just… Collect shitty romcoms?” he asks, once he’s recovered from the shock. A look of annoyance flashes across Keith’s face, probably aimed at Lance for interrupting the movie again.

“ _No_ ,” Keith insists. “I collect good movies.”

Lance snorts. “Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure the venn diagram of the movies we watched tonight and the category _bad_ movies is a circ--”

“ _Shh_.” Keith cuts him off. “We’re missing the good part.”

And so Lance watches the climax of _The Wedding Planner_ with Keith, fading out of consciousness some point before the ending.

/

When he wakes up, Lance’s back is absolutely killing him. That’s the first thing he notices, before even opening his eyes -- still feeling exhausted, he can tell he didn’t exactly get his full eight hours. The lack of light in the room confirms his suspicion when he finally cracks an eyelid open a peek. Whatever time it is, dawn hasn’t even broke yet. His mind is so bleary he can’t even bring himself to bother checking the time.

With only a vague awareness of where he even is, Lance senses, more than knows, that Allura is curled up on her side next to him. She’s taking up over half the couch and shoving him toward the end. His mind helpfully supplies that that’s perhaps the reason why he’s so uncomfortable, and he’s shifting around when he realizes that he’s not leaning on the armrest of the sofa but actually on Keith, who’s eyebrows are furrowed even in his sleep, corners of his lips slightly turned down. 

Or maybe that’s just him reacting to Lance squirming around, considering he’s practically on top of him.

He’s squinting at Keith in a sleep-induced fog, trying desperately to make his brain work properly and tell him why this seems like a bad idea. But Keith is _warm_ and there are no blankets and -- man, he was really struggling to even keep his eyes open. So he leans back into Keith, laying his head on his shoulder like a makeshift pillow, feeling Keith shift around in response and finally settle into resting his own head on top of Lance’s.

The weird sense of urgency is still there, but this honestly feels like an issue better left for a more coherent Lance.

And so he closes his eyes again and falls back asleep almost instantly.

…

_Click_. 

The sound of an artificial camera shutter going off, followed by Hunk’s tell-tale giggle, and then Pidge urging him to be quiet, flags the _‘my-friends-are-up-to-no-good_ ’ part of his brain. Lance opens his eyes, and--

Keith’s face is _right there_. Thankfully still unconscious, but it’s close enough that Lance has to stifle a yelp as he scrambles backward, to the other side of the _suspiciously_ empty couch. Both Keith and Lance had managed to sprawl out at some point, though for some reason Lance had ended up asleep on top of Keith’s chest. His hand had even been resting on Lance’s back -- God, and now Hunk and Pidge had a _picture_ of it.

“Whoops, thought this was on silent.” Pidge says, giving Lance a particularly smug grin while still keeping her voice low. She pockets her phone. “Rise and shine, _love-birds_.”

Lance shoots another glance to Keith -- who’s only just now stirring, the hand that was dangling off the side of the couch coming up to lay over his eyes as he grumbles. He hadn’t been awake before Lance had managed to peel himself away, so that was good. At least he can still look Keith in the eyes.

“Delete that,” Lance hisses, knowing that that will definitely _not_ be happening. Pidge gives him an smug look.

“Yeah, _right_!”

Dramatically, Lance flops back into the couch cushions with a groan -- Hunk is checking his phone, no doubt having received the photo from Pidge by now. So much for that. “You’re both terrible. Horrible people.”

“You love us,” Hunk replies.

Lance pinches the bridge of his nose. “I do.” he whispers.

Keith is finally leaning forward, looking like death itself. Lance has no doubt in his mind that Keith is _not_ a morning person, not with the look of utter confusion on his face as he desperately tries to both blink away the sleep and reorient himself with where the hell he is.

“KittyCade,” Lance decides to supply helpfully, “Movie night. Adam Sandler.”

Keith’s eyes focus on Lance as he blinks a few times, slowly, his eyebrows pushed together even more than usual.

“... Oh.” he finally says, as if his brain was running on a fifteen second delay. He looks around the arcade. Lance takes the moment to send Pidge and Hunk a glance that he _hopes_ communicates _‘if you send Keith that picture I’ll find a lake and tie bricks to your feet and toss you both in_ ’. Pidge grins. He has a feeling the message is received. (But maybe not heeded.)

Their staring contest is broken by Keith himself. “What time is it?” he asks, and _oh_ , his voice has that gravelly, sleepy, _I-Just-Woke-Up_ quality to it.

“7:23 AM,” Hunk tells him, with his phone still in his hand. Keith grunts in reply and stands up, still looking slightly dazed.

Lance watches him grope around the couch for his phone that must have fallen out of his pocket the night before, then stifle a yawn.

“Are you leaving?” Pidge asks, reaching down to pet one of the kittens. Already they were starting to wake up, gravitating toward the people in the room for their morning meal.

“Mmhm.” Keith replies, rubbing his eyes one last time. “Got… Work stuff to do. See you guys later.” he still sounds put out by it, and Lance frowns a little bit when he remembers he never got to ask what was bothering him.

Keith leaves, and then Coran starts banging around in the kitchen and all the kittens scatter to go sit by the door. Surprisingly, Pidge and Hunk leave instead of poking fun at him like he expected, no doubt going to help prep the arcade for opening.

He knows he should be following them, but stops for a minute to be distracted by the thought of just how _comfortable_ it was sleeping on Keith’s chest like that.

/

It feels like the days should be more eventful after that. Like with a new friend added to their group the days should be something to look forward to, the excitement of _something_ different added to their little routine. And, in fact, there is a change -- a heavy, dragging feeling in the air that's seemed to pull everyone under. Which is, actually, _not_ what Lance had in mind.

Worst of all, it’s subtle. Allura still smiles when he comes in -- but the stress is beginning to show itself on her face more obviously. Pidge and Hunk are quieter, but they’re still cracking jokes sometimes. Coran makes a couple bad puns with a smile that’s so tight it’s on the edge of uncanny for him.

Even the cats seem sluggish, like the atmosphere is within the arcade itself.

Lance hasn’t seen Keith since the movie night five days ago. Not outside of his house, not at the arcade, not anywhere. If he hadn’t _just_ moved in, Lance would almost think that he had moved out. But occasionally he’ll see Red watching him from the window as he leaves, and he knows Keith wouldn’t just _abandon_ a cat.

So he chalks it up to maybe him being busy, or maybe he’s got the _funk_ too. Lance doesn’t consider that maybe he’s fallen under this curse of depression himself until, just under a week since everything’s felt a little bit _off_ , a woman comes into the arcade.

It’s an unusually slow day, but Lance chalks it up to being in the middle of the week. He’s doing his usual thing -- observing the cats, taking pictures, tossing around catnip-filled mice, when she comes up and bombards him with fifty _million_ questions. He does know the cats pretty well, so he takes the time to reply to all of them, but there’s something about her that’s just slightly irritating. His mind wanders back to Keith, thinking about if he’d be just as slightly annoyed by this girl as Lance is -- no, he doesn’t even have to think about it, he’s sure Keith would be -- and then she finally politely excuses herself. 

Lance is about to move on with his day when Pidge, taking a break from her duties and sitting on the couch, lets out an incredulous noise.

“What is _wrong_ with you?”

Lance looks up at her, squinting in confusion. “Uh?”

“Are you sick? That really pretty girl was trying to give you her _number_.” Lance’s eyebrows furrow -- was she pretty? He can’t even really remember paying attention to her face. When he doesn’t respond, Pidge rolls her eyes. “You’re so hot for your new neighbor that you’ve turned blind now. _Wow_.”

“Why don’t you mind your own business!” he snaps, and then immediately wishes he could take it back. It’s far from the first time he’s gotten frustrated with her, but the way her fingers dig into the cushions of the couch warn him that maybe today was the wrong day. She hadn’t even said anything that unusual -- just the normal ribbing, from her -- but somehow he wasn’t in the mood. Apparently she isn’t here.

“Then why don’t you stop moping around! You’re dragging the whole place down and making it our business just because he hasn’t been back!”

“ _Me_?” Lance says, scowling in her direction. Their voices are rising, and it’s fortunate no customers are in the cafe because wow, _that’d_ be bad press. Some of the cats are even scurrying away from the noise. “You and Hunk have hardly said five sentences to me in the past five days, combined!”

Out of the corner of his eye Lance sees Hunk poke his head around from the arcade area at the mention of his name. Pidge stands up from the couch.

“Yeah, because no one wants to talk to someone who looks like their puppy just got kicked!”

Lance opens his mouth to retort, but is interrupted by _someone --_ someone using their _boss_ voice.

“ _Stop_ it.”

Evidently, their argument had caught the attention of Allura. Worn-down as she was looking, her stern face directed toward them was more than enough to give both Lance and Pidge pause. Just the sound of her voice, steely and commanding, sends a chill down his spine. Once she realizes she has their full attention, she exhales a bit and relaxes her stance. Allura opens her mouth to speak again, and they watch her raptly -- Hunk included.

She _fidgets_.

Lance doesn’t ever think he’s seen Allura fidget.

“I think I need to apologize,” she finally says, which was… Not at all what Lance was expecting to hear. Pidge seems just as baffled, but before she can even get a word out Allura continues,

“I’ve clearly been fostering a toxic work environment here due to my own stress, and I think it’s affecting you three. _Coran_ is _also_ guilty of this,” she shoots a glance into the kitchen, but when he doesn’t emerge she sighs and continues, “because I assumed keeping you three in the dark would be better. But clearly, you can tell something is off.”

“You do look like you’ve seen better days.” Hunk chimes in. Allura’s eyes narrow at him, and he adds, “Uh. No offense.”

“... None taken.” she says, voice clipped in a way that clearly said she definitely _had_ taken offense.

“So what’s wrong?” Pidge questions, leaning forward slightly. Allura sighs.

“I’m having some… Issues with a group of… Individuals. I’m sure that their intentions are well. Or, well, come from a place of concern. For the cats, I mean, not particularly us but that’s not really the point--”

Pidge taps a finger against her knee. “Allura, what are you talking about?”

Allura grimaces. “We’re being targeted by a group of very… Passionate people concerned about the living conditions of the cats. A misunderstanding, I’m sure, but it’s getting increasingly hard to get under control as these rumors spread and I’m worried about our image--”

“Our image is fine,” Lance answers, shaking his head. “I mean, no one’s leaving any weird comments. I would know, I kinda control the whole social media thing?”

Allura gives him a guilty look, tucking a lock of loose hair behind her ear. Lance frowns.

“Right? Allura, _right_?”

“I didn’t want you to find out and not know what was going on.” she says, looking guiltier and guiltier by the second. “When it was just a few comments I didn’t think it was a big deal--”

“You _deleted_ them?” Lance cups his hands around his face and groans. “Allura, you deleted them before I could see them?”

“-- And since emails came directly to my inbox every time a comment was posted, I could see them right away. It really _wasn’t_ that big of a deal, actually, at first--”

“-- Except for the fact where you hid social media comments from the person who manages your _social media_ accounts!”

“-- Until more comments came in,” she continues, ignoring Lance’s outbursts, “and then people asking about the comments, and then people who saw the comments before I could delete them trying to defend us, which I had to delete because without context they made no sense, of course--”

“So were you just deleting _everything_!?” Lance asks, exasperated. Allura shakes her head, folds her arms over her chest in a defensive position.

“Not… _Everything_ , of course.”

“Holy _crap_.” Lance makes his way over to the couch next to Pidge, and sinks down into the cushions. Her eyes jump from him, to Allura, and back, like she isn’t sure what to say either.

Hunk is finally the person to speak up.

“What all… Did the comments say?”

Allura shifts uncomfortably. “At first, just general accusations… Things about how all cat cafes are abusive, exploitative, things like that. I deleted them because I just figured it was baseless hate-mail, I didn’t think it would… Escalate.”

“And deleting their comments just gave them fuel.” Pidge adds. Allura nods.

“It spiralled, and I… Didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to get all of you involved, and I’m _sorry_.” her eyes lock onto Lance’s. “Especially to you, Lance.”

He stares back at her, and a cat winding around his legs scampers away as he abruptly stands up from the couch.

“I can try and fix this,” he says, backing up toward the door, “But you have to stop deleting the comments.”

“Lance, I--”

She cuts herself off, interrupted by the jingle of the door closing behind him.

/

Lance’s apartment gets to the point where it feels too stifling, just him and his phone and _lots_ of comments and replies. But his damage-control responses only go so far until they begin to sound repetitive, stale, and robotic -- something the KittyCade has never been before, something _he_ has never been before. There was never any need to sound professional or diplomatic -- most of his job interacting with people just involved witty jokes or simple questions.

What he’s doing should count as overtime, or something, but he doesn’t even care about that. He just wants this _fixed_.

And instead he’s taking a break -- deliberately leaving his phone behind in his apartment while he sits outside and sulks. At some point he even turns his gaze to the ground, spacing out while staring at concrete until there’s suddenly a shadow looming over him, blocking out the sun. He blinks upward to find Keith, bag of groceries in hand.

“Oh.” Lance says. “Hey.”

“Hey to you too.” Keith says, eyes scanning Lance like he’s looking for something. “Any particular reason you’re blocking the way?”

Lance shrugs and shuffles himself slightly to the side -- but to his surprise, Keith drops the bag down onto the ground and sits down next to him. Lance eyes the plastic bag, looking from it to Keith in suspicion.

“You don’t have anything that’s gonna melt in there?”

Keith shrugs. “If I do, you can just pay me back later.”

Lance squints at him, before scoffing. The corners of Keith’s mouth quirk up ever-so-slightly, the only sign that he’s kidding at all.

“Oh, mullet-man has _jokes_ now.”

“It wasn’t a joke, but it’s alright. I can let you pay me back in installments.”

Lance can’t fight back the smile this time as he replies, “Oh, can we stretch it out over 140 months?”

“Sure. But I charge 90% interest.”

Finally, Lance laughs. “Wow, remind me to never ask to borrow money from you. Or sugar. I can’t imagine the kind of debt I’d accrue if any baking plans went wrong.” 

Keith lets out a snort.

“Yeah, I drive a hard bargain. So what’s eating you?”

Tipping his head slightly to one side, Lance eyes Keith. “Work stuff, I guess.” Keith quirks an eyebrow.

“Really? At the KittyCade?”

“Yup,” Lance replies, popping the _p_ at the end of the word. “I know, my place of sanctuary has become a battlefield. Apparently some animal activists got a little bit aggressive with their concerns on our comment page, and instead of letting me handle it Allura decided to just… Delete the comments. And then from there it just kind of…”

Lance holds his hand up, and mimes an airplane making a nosedive for the ground, then presses his hands together in fists and spreads them apart to mimic an explosion. Keith clicks his tongue against his teeth.

“Yikes.”

“Yeah. And… You don’t seem that surprised, so I’m guessing…” Lance trails off. Keith grunts in response.

“Word spreads fast. And I’m a journalist.”

“Oh, that’s right.” untucking his legs from their criss-crossed position, Lance pulls them up so he can rest his chin on them. “Wait, does that have anything to do with why you haven’t swung by in awhile?”

Keith opens his mouth, and shuts it, looking taken off-guard -- before looking a little bit offended. Lance backpedals quickly, shaking his head. “No, nevermind. Sorry about that. I’m not even sure if that’s an answer I’d _want_ to hear anyway.”

“... I’ve just been swamped at work.” Keith says, using the same clipped tone he always has when he talks about his job. “It isn’t personal.”

“Right.”

“... Right.” Keith clears his throat. “So… What are you doing about the comments?”

Lance sighs, resting his cheek in his hand. “Well, I’ve been trying to do damage control. You know, actually respond to the comments instead of just ignoring them. But man, Allura really added fuel to the fire by deleting all those comments and not addressing any of the issues. I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

Keith _hmms_ , tapping a finger against his leg. “Are you mad at her?”

“Uh… Yes? No? Maybe? I don’t know, she probably thought she was doing the right thing. But it’s just so hard to be mad at her anyway. It’s just pretty shocking when she does things like this, I guess. She’s always so…” Gesturing vaguely into the air, Lance fumbles with the exact word he’s looking for. “On top of everything. _Smart_. We all started the ‘Cade together after college, but she was the real brains behind it all. Well, and the money. Seems to always have all the answers.”

Keith is quiet for a moment. “... I mean, I don’t know her very well. But it kind of sounds like you have her on a pedestal.”

Lance smiles wryly. “Probably. I had a pretty huge thing for her back in college.”

“The only thing surprising about that statement is the fact that you made it sound like it was in the past-tense.”

“Oh, it totally is.” Lance laughs. “I mean, I can be pretty persistent, but she only turned me down like a hundred times. Even _I_ can take a hint.”

“Shocking. One-hundred times?” Eyeing his grocery bag, Keith turns back to Lance. “That’s how many payments you’re going to owe me after my ice-cream melts.”

“I actually can’t tell if you’re joking again or actually slightly salty that you feel obligated to sit out here and talk to me, but you did it so now you’re in it for the long haul.” Lance grins, and then sighs. “I’ve got a mess to sort out. I feel like a corporate shill or something every time I reply to a comment. Super cordial, like “ _Sorry that you feel this way, KittyCade is a non-profit organizaton built specifically to help rescue and rehabilitate cats, please e-mail for further info._ ”. It’s like, hardly helping.”

Keith makes a face. “So… Stop replying to each comment? Make one big post. Address everything you need to there.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like…” Keith pauses for a moment. “Instead of being generic, put the info out there. Be totally transparent. With every bit of info that you can be -- the budget, where all the money goes, what you feed the cats… If you don’t give them any wiggle room, they won’t have anything to pick at.”

Lance manages to look impressed. “Wow. I guess there’s a brain under all that hair after all, because that’s a really good idea!”

“I’m going to ignore the first part of that sentence.” Keith stands up, apparently satisfied, and grabs his bag once more. “Now that you look less like someone kicked your dog, I’m going to go put my groceries away.”

“Yeah, thanks-- Oh, wait a second!” before Keith can completely make his retreat, Lance jumps to his feet. “Hey, I just dumped all my work crap onto you so… If you ever need to talk about your work?”

Keith stares at him for a solid five seconds, completely silent, before nodding. There’s an incomprehensible look in his eye that Lance can’t name, but before he can question it Keith is practically inside his own apartment.

“Thanks, maybe sometime I’ll take you up on that.”

And then he gives a slight wave and shuts the door, leaving Lance standing outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone!!!
> 
> first off if you read this fic before this update (aka were following it) hello!! you might notice a new addition: the instagram posts! or like, fake, not-instagram because i'm too lazy to actually 1-for-1 the instagram layout in css and it'd be dated the next time instagram updates anyway haha. but i think the idea still comes across? let me know! make sure you have the creator style enabled, otherwise it's gonna look crazy. :)
> 
> as far as i know, all the cat pictures in here are public domain. so if i somehow accidentally used a picture of your cat or something, and you want me to remove it, let me know lol.
> 
> secondly, you might have noticed i changed the chapters! it used to say there were going to be 4, and now i'm not sure -- there might still be 4 or 5, but there also might be more. i'd really like to expand on this universe if i can because it's just a lot of fun for me haha. so i'm not constraining myself!
> 
> thanks for anyone who was following this and was patient, i know this update was awhile coming, and i hope you guys like it!

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!! ;* you can check me out on either my [tumblr](https://freshias.tumblr.com) or [twitter!](https://twitter.com/yordlecompstomp)


End file.
